Praxythea entered and sank into a chair across the table from me. “How did you know I wanted this?” she said with a smile, picking up one of the cups.
I didn't return her smile. “Maybe
“You're upset with me,” she said.
“It doesn't take a psychic to know that.”
“Publicity is very important. Without the media attention, the people who need me most wouldn't know about me.”
“And it sells books.”
“Of course. Money is important, no doubt about it. It gives me the freedom to go where I'm needed.”
“Okay, Praxythea, you're a saint.” Before the protest could burst from her parted lips, I took Kevin's pock- etknife from my handbag and handed it to her. “See what you can do with this.”
It was a small knife, just the right size for a child's hand. I could imagine how excited Kevin must have been when he first saw it. Would he ever see it again?
Praxythea held it between the palms of her hands, closed her eyes, and bowed her head over it. I refilled my cup and waited.
Her eyes popped open, and she laid the knife on the table.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“He's still alive.”
Despite my disbelief, I experienced a surge of hope. “Can you tell where he is?” It was baloney, I was sure, but it couldn't hurt to check every option.
“You'll make fun of me if I tell you.”
“Come on, Praxythea. Tell me.”
She stroked the blade of the knife with her emerald-clad finger. “You're not going to like this, but here goes. I saw him… by the edge of running water.”
I groaned. “I should have known you'd say that. It's always something about ‘the edge of running water.’ You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“I was right last night,” she said defensively. “They found the child exactly where I said he'd be.”
“But it was the wrong child, Praxythea.”
“There had to be a reason why I was sent those images when I was concentrating on contacting Kevin,” she said. “I'm sure there's a connection.”
“Like a serial killer who strikes every thirty-seven years? Give me a break!”
In the terrarium in the corner next to the stove, Icky squeaked. I think he was staring at me, but it was hard to tell. “I don't need your editorial comments,” I muttered to the reptile.
Fred jumped onto my lap and I stroked his soft orange and white fur. Medical testing has proved having pets is good for your health. I agree that petting a cat is soothing, but I wondered what on earth an iguana could do for anyone?
CHAPTER 7
THE VOICE ON THE OTHER END OF THE TELE- phone line said, “Tori, dear, how are you?” I noticed this time Oretta had my name right. That alone should have warned me that she wanted something.
“Weezie had a little accident today and won't be able to make it to the pageant rehearsal tonight.” Her tone of voice spoke myriads about the kind of “accident” poor Weezie had experienced. I recalled what Ginnie had said Jackson would do to his wife when he found out she was in Oretta's pageant.
“So, I thought you could stand in for her. It's a dress rehearsal. Wear a black leotard and tights. I'll supply the rest of your costume.”
“But I-”
“Don't be modest, Tori. Of course you can do it. You were there last night, so you know what the part entails.”
“I have plans-”
“But everyone else I called has something important to do tonight. Besides,” she wheedled, “you're our town's only famous author, and people would love to see you up there. It'll show the town you don't
“I've never thought I was-” My protest came too late. She'd already hung up.
“Why on earth didn't you say no?” Praxythea asked me.
“I couldn't get a word in edgewise,” I said. My hand still rested on the receiver.
She smiled wisely. “You're still hoping to be accepted into the community, aren't you? You'd do anything anybody asked if you thought it would help you fit in.”
Wishes don't come true. Otherwise lightning would have struck her right then and there. She was right, of course. That's what was so irritating.
An hour later, wearing one of Praxythea's black bodysuits stretched to its Lycra limits, I rushed down Trinity's basement steps two at a time, with Praxythea trailing behind me. I'd been surprised when she'd asked to come along to the rehearsal, but I was glad for the company.
Many people were there working on decorations for the upcoming greens sale, just as last night. Marvin Bumbaugh greeted us as we entered the auditorium. “Let me take your coat.” He was speaking to me, but he was drooling over Praxythea. Before I could protest, he'd slipped my coat off my shoulders and hung it on a metal rack. Feeling practically naked, I sucked in my stomach and looked around for Oretta, who'd promised to bring the rest of my costume.
“I'd like you to meet my two daughters,” Marvin said. “Dakota and Cheyenne.”
The two oddly named girls giggled.
I couldn't resist saying to Marvin, “I'm surprised you're not on the mountain with the search parties.”
“I hate not being there, but someone had to stay in town and keep an eye on things here.”
The girls couldn't take their eyes off Praxythea, so I introduced them. The older girl, Cheyenne, surprised me by saying to me, “I liked your book a lot.”
“Why, thank you,” I said, thinking how rare it was to find a fifteen-year-old with such good taste.
“I like Dean Koontz better, though. He's sort of local. Went to college at Shipp, you know.”
I bared my teeth at her. If she wanted to think it was a smile, that was okay with me.
I looked around the room, searching for Oretta and my costume. I didn't see her, but I did see clusters of people making wreaths, tying bows, and sprinkling glitter on pinecones. Not so many as there'd been last night-I assumed most of the men and many of the women were still on the mountaintop searching for Kevin.
The kitchen brigade had outdone itself tonight; the top of the divider between the rooms was covered with dozens of home-baked pies to be sold at the greens sale. The rich fragrances of cinnamon and mincemeat mingled in the air and flooded my mind with nostalgic memories of Christmases past-Christmases that were actually far more prosaic than those of my wishful imagination. For us thespians, there was plenty of hot coffee, tea, spiced cider, and platters of cookies.
No sign of my costume. I looked around to see if anyone was watching, then tugged at the miserable bodysuit.
“You're going to stretch it all out of shape,” Praxythea warned.
“I certainly hope so,” I said, giving the rear end another jerk.
I needn't have worried about anyone staring at me. Not with Praxythea there. Lickin Creek wasn't used to TV celebrities-which I found refreshing-and she was immediately surrounded by a crowd of admirers. I was rather surprised to learn that so many members of the Trinity congregation watched the Psychic Network.
The Reverend Flack and his wife, Primrose, broke away from a mound of holly branches to greet me. “Any word
